LVI.

It was a dread, yet spirit-stirring sight!

The billows foam'd beneath a thousand oars, Fast as they land the red-cross ranks unite,

Legions on legions bright'ning all the shores. Then banners rise, and cannon-signal roars,

Then peals the warlike thunder of the drum, Thrills the loud fife, the trumpet-flourish pours,

And patriot hopes awake, and doubts are dumb, For, bold in Freedom's cause, the bands of Océan come !

LVII.

A various host they came-whose ranks display Each mode in which the warrior meets the fight, The deep battalion locks its firm array,

And meditates his aim the marksman light; Far glance the light of sabres flashing bright, Where mounted squadrons shake the echoing mead,1

Lacks not artillery breathing flame and night, Nor the fleet ordnance whirl'd by rapid steed, That rivals lightning's flash in ruin and in speed.

LVIII.

A various host-from kindred realms they came,3
Brethren in arms, but rivals in renown-
For yon fair bands shall merry England claim,

And with their deeds of valour deck her crown. Hers their bold port, and hers their martial frown, And hers their scorn of death in freedom's cause, Their eyes of azure, and their locks of brown,

And the blunt speech that bursts without a pause, And freeborn thoughts, which league the Soldier with the Laws.

LIX.

And, O! loved warriors of the Minstrel's land! Yonder your bonnets nod, your tartans wave! The rugged form may mark the mountain band, And harsher features, and a mien more grave;

"By heaven! it is a splendid sight to see (For one who hath no friend, no brother there) Their rival scarfs of mix'd embroidery, Their various arms, that glitter in the air! What gallant war-hounds rouse them from their lair And gnash their fangs, loud yelling for the prey! All join the chase, but few the triumph share, The grave shall bear the chiefest prize away, And Havoc scarce for joy can number their array.

"Three hosts combine to offer sacrifice;
Three tongues prefer strange orisons on high;
Three gaudy standards flout the pale blue skies;
The shouts are France, Spain, Albion, Victory!
The foe, the victim, and the fond ally
That fights for all, but ever fights in vain,

Are met-as if at home they could not die

To feed the crow on Talavera's plain,

And fertilize the field that each pretends to gain."

IMS." the dusty mead."

But ne'er in battle-field throbb'd heart so brave,

As that which beats beneath the Scottish plaid; And when the pibroch bids the battle rave,

And level for the charge your arms are laid, Where lives the desperate foe that for such onset staid!

LX.

Hark! from yon stately ranks what laughter rings,
Mingling wild mirth with war's stern minstrelsy,
His jest while each blithe comrade round him flings,
And moves to death with military glee:
Boast, Erin, boast them! tameless, frank, and free,
In kindness warm, and fierce in danger known,
Rough nature's children, humorous as she:

And HE, yon Chieftain-strike the proudest tone Of thy bold harp, green Isle -the Hero is thine

own.

LXI.

Now on the scene Vimeira should be shown,
On Talavera's fight should Roderick gaze,
And hear Corunna wail her battle won,
And see Busaco's crest with lightning blaze:--5
But shall fond fable mix with heroes' praise?
Hath Fiction's stage for Truth's long triumphs
room?

And dare her wild-flowers mingle with the bays,
That claim a long eternity to bloom
Around the warrior's crest, and o'er the warrior's
tomb!

LXII.

Or may I give adventurous Fancy scope,
And stretch a bold hand to the awful veil
That hides futurity from anxious hope,
Bidding beyond it scenes of glory hail,
And painting Europe rousing at the tale

Of Spain's invaders from her confines hurl'd,
While kindling nations buckle on their mail,

And Fame, with clarion-blast and wings unfurl'd, To Freedom and Revenge awakes an injured World?"

2 "The landing of the English is admirably described; nor is there any thing finer in the whole poem than the following passage, (stanzas lv. lvi. lvii.) with the exception always of the three concluding lines, which appear to us to be very nearly as bad as possible."-JEFFREY.

3" The three succeeding stanzas (lviii. lix. lx.) are elaborate; but we think, on the whole, successful. They will probably be oftener quoted than any other passage in the poem."JEFFREY.

4 MS.—" His jest each careless comrade round him flings." 6 For details of the battle of Vimeira, fought 21st Aug. 1808 -of Corunna, 16th Jan. 1809-of Talavera, 28th July, 1809and of Busaco, 27th Sept. 1810-See Sir Walter Scott's Life of Napoleon, volume vi. under these dates.

6 "The nation will arise regenerate;
Strong in her second youth and beautiful,
And like a spirit that hath shaken off
The clog of dull mortality, shall Spain
Arise in glory."-SOUTHEY'S Roderick.

2" For a mere introduction to the exploits of our English commanders, the story of Don Roderick's sins and confes sions,--the minute description of his army and attendants, and the whole interest and machinery of the enchanted vault, with the greater part of the Vision itself, are far too long and elaborate. They withdraw our curiosity and attention from the objects for which they had been bespoken, and gradually engage them upon a new and independent series of romantic adventures, in which it is not easy to see how Lord Wellington and Bonaparte can have any concern. But, on the other hand, no sooner is this new interest excited,-no sooner have we surrendered our imaginations into the hands of this dark enchanter, and heated our fancies to the proper pitch for sympathizing in the fortunes of Gothic kings and Moorish invaders, with their imposing accompaniments of harnessed knights, ravished damsels, and enchanted statues, than the

whole romantic group vanishes at once from our sight; and we are hurried, with minds yet disturbed with those powerful apparitions, to the comparatively sober and cold narration of Bonaparte's villanies, and to draw battles between mere mortal combatants in English and French uniforms. The vast and elaborate vestibule, in short, in which we had been so long detained,

'Where wonders wild of Arabesque combine

With Gothic imagery of darker shade,'

has no corresponding palace attached to it; and the long noviciate we are made to serve to the mysterious powers of romance is not repaid, after all, by an introduction to their awful presence”- — JEFFREY.

MS.-"Who shall command the torrent's headlong tide." 4 See Appendix, Note O.

But you, ye heroes of that well-fought day, How shall a bard, unknowing and unknown, His meed to each victorious leader pay,

Or bind on every brow the laurels won ?8

Yet fain my harp would wake its boldest tone,
O'er the wide sea to hail CADOGAN brave;
And he, perchance, the minstrel-note might own,
Mindful of meeting brief that Fortune gave

IX.

Yet, ere thou turn'st, collect each distant aid;
Those chief that never heard the lion roar !
Within whose souls lives not a trace portray'd,
Of Talavera, or Mondego's shore!
Marshal each band thou hast, and summon more;

Of war's fell stratagems exhaust the whole;

Rank upon rank, squadron on squadron pour,
Legion on legion on thy foeman roll,

rave.

XIII.

Yes! hard the task, when Britons wield the sword, To give each Chief and every field its fame:

Hark! Albuera thunders BERESFORD,

And Red Barosa shouts for dauntless GRÆME!

O for a verse of tumult and of flame,

Bold as the bursting of their cannon sound,
To bid the world re-echo to their fame!
For never, upon gory battle-ground,

X.

O vainly gleams with steel Agueda's shore,
Vainly thy squadrons hide Assuava's plain,
And front the flying thunders as they roar,
With frantic charge and tenfold odds, in vain !5
And what avails thee that, for CAMERON slain,"
Wild from his plaided ranks the yell was given-
Vengeance and grief gave mountain-rage the rein,

1 See Appendix, Note P.

2 The MS. has, for the preceding five lines — "And in pursuit vindictive hurried on,

And O, survivors sad! to you belong Tributes from each that Britain calls her son, From all her nobles, all her wealthier throng, To her poor peasant's mite, and minstrel's poorer song."

3 See Appendix, Note Q.

4 The literal translation of Fuentes d' Honoro.

5 See Appendix, Note R.

See Appendix, Note S.

7 On the 26th of April 1811, Scott writes thus to Mr. Morritt: -"I rejoice with the heart of a Scotsman in the success of Lord Wellington, and with all the pride of a seer to boot. I have been for three years proclaiming him as the only man we had to trust to a man of talent and genius-not deterred by ob

tors crown'd!

XIV.

O who shall grudge him Albuera's bays,"
Who brought a race regenerate to the field,
Roused them to emulate their fathers' praise,
Temper'd their headlong rage, their courage
steel'd,10

And raised fair Lusitania's fallen shield,

stacles, nor fettered by prejudices, not immured within the pedantries of his profession-but playing the general and the hero when most of our military commanders would have exhibited the drill serjeant, or at best the adjutant. These campaigns will teach us what we have long needed to know, that success depends not on the nice drilling of regiments, but upon the grand movements and combinations of an army. We have been hitherto polishing hinges, when we should have studied the mechanical union of a huge machine. Now, our army begin to see that the grand secret, as the French call it, consists only in union, joint exertion, and concerted movement. This will enable us to meet the dogs on fair terms as to numbers, and for the rest, My soul and body on the action both.""-Life, vol. iii. p. 313.

8 See Appendix, Editor's Note T.

℗ MS." O who shall grudge yon chief the victor's bays." 10 See Appendix, Note U.

1 MS.-"Not greater on that mount of strife and blood,
While Gaul's proud legions roll'd like mist away,
And tides of gore stain'd Albuera's flood,
And Poland's shatter'd lines before him lay,
And clarions hail'd him victor of the day.

Not greater when he toil'd yon legions to array,
'Twas life he peril'd in that stubborn game,
And life 'gainst honour when did soldier weigh?
But, self-devoted to his generous aim,

Far dearer than his life, the hero pledged his fame." 2 MS." Nor be his meed o'erpast who sadly tried

With valour's wreath to hide affection's wound, To whom his wish Heaven for our weal denied."

a MS." From war to war the wanderer went his round, Yet was his soul in Caledonia still;

7" No comparison can be fairly instituted between compositions so wholly different in style and designation as the present poem and Mr. Scott's former productions. The present poem neither has, nor, from its nature, could have the interest which arises from an eventful plot, or a detailed delineation of character; and we shall arrive at a far more accurate estimation of its merits by comparing it with 'The Bard' of Gray, or that particular scene of Ariosto, where Bradamante beholds the wonders of Merlin's tomb. To this it has many strong and evident features of resemblance; but, in our opinion, greatly surpasses it both in the dignity of the objects represented, and the picturesque effect of the machinery.

"We are inclined to rank The Vision of Don Roderick, not only above The Bard,' but, (excepting Adam's Vision from the Mount of Paradise, and the matchless beauties of the sixth book of Virgil,) above all the historical and poetical prospects which have come to our knowledge. The scenic representation is at once gorgeous and natural; and the language, and imagery, is altogether as spirited, and bears the stamp of more care and polish than even the most celebrated of the author's former productions. If it please us less than these, we must attribute it in part perhaps to the want of contrivance, and in a still greater degree to the nature of the subject itself, which is deprived of all the interest derived from suspense or sympathy, and, as far as it is connected with modern politics, represents a scene too near our immediate

5 See Appendix, Note V.

6 "Now, strike your sailes, yee iolly mariners,

For we be come unto a quiet rode,
Where we must land some of our passengers,

And light this weary vessell of her lode.

Here she a while may make her safe abode,
Till she repaired have her tackles spent

And wants supplide; and then againe abroad
On the long voiage whereto she is bent:
Well may she speede, and fairely finish her intent!"
Faerie Queene, Book i. Canto 12.

fiction and poetry."—Quarterly Review, October, 1811.

"The Vision of Don Roderick has been received with less interest by the public than any of the author's other performances; and has been read, we should imagine, with some degree of disappointment even by those who took it up with the most reasonable expectations. Yet it is written with very considerable spirit, and with more care and effort than most of the author's compositions;-with a degree of effort, indeed, which could scarcely have failed of success, if the author had not succeeded so splendidly on other occasions without any